


Yes, Princess, I've Found You At Last

by amihanicole



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Anastasia, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3990838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amihanicole/pseuds/amihanicole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anastasia AU!<br/>Clarke Griffin, Princess of the fallen monarchy has been missing for almost ten years. The Blake Siblings, conmen extraordinaire are bent on collecting the reward for finding her. They recruit the help of an orphan in search of family in order to fool the deposed Queen that her daughter has been found. Together, three journey to Polis with unbelievable amounts of snark.<br/>***<br/>She saw Octavia and Bellamy exchange a look. Bellamy grinned and Octavia was all but bouncing. The cocked her eyebrows at the duo, who were obviously related.<br/>"Cara..." Octavia all but crooned. "Have you ever considered that you could be a Griffin?"<br/>"Me? A royal?" Cara scoffed. "Fat chance. I'm just nobody with no family. I can't even remember anything from when I was a kid. The only clue I've got is Polis. That's where I'm going..." She trailed off, wondering why she was recounting her entire sob story of a life to perfect, attractive strangers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: A Bedtime Story

“Once upon a time,” Bellamy began, in his storytelling voice.

“It was, what, three years ago, Bell?” Octavia interrupted. “Do you really need to once-upon-a-time it?”

Bellamy frowned at his sister. “Do you want the story or not? Maybe you’re getting too old for this…”

She grumbled under her breath, but said no more. She settled into bed, and he began again.

_Once upon a time, there was a king. Now, he wasn’t a terrible king and by no means was he a terrible man but he ruled the land under a terrible old system. People outside the nobility were poor and stayed poor. Their needs were almost never taken into account when making decisions. People grew weary of this system, and one of those people was Diana Sydney._

_Sydney gathered the masses, and convinced them to hate the monarchy. Underground, in secret meetings Sydney organized, they plotted against King Jacob Griffin. To execute their plan however, they needed to get close to the King. They convinced the Queen’s confidante, Thelonius Jaha, that the people needed representation in the Court. Jaha convinced the queen to begin by inviting Sydney to a few court affairs. One of these was the King’s only daughter’s birthday._

_On the Princess’ birthday, Sydney organized to assassinate the King and his entire family. A small army quickly but effectively infiltrated the palace and killed the King. The queen and the princess escaped-“_

“How did they escape, Bell?” Octavia murmured sleepily.

_The Princess, who grew tired of the festivities, was drawing in a room. She was tired of parties and was looking forward to the vacation in Polis that her parent promised her. She even had her father’s watch that promised to be_ together in Polis _with her. She was a beautiful little girl, with clear blue eyes and the blondest of hairs…_

Octavia snickered.

_When the commotion began, her mother ran off to find her. They were trapped though. The raiders were closing in, but a kitchen boy knew the secret passages. He was passing through the paint room, and heard them panicking. They boy led the Queen and the Princess out of the palace where they were met by loyal guards. They were supposed to seek refuge in Polis, but the Princess was separated from the Queen on the journey. They have been looking, and looking for the Princess but she can’t be found. The Queen is in Polis, exiled from the land. The King is dead. A new system is here, but it’s not much better._

“Happy ever after?” Octavia asked, feigning innocence.

“Not yet.”


	2. A Sign Or Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cara asks for a sign, and gets one.

Cara was rudely woken by clothes being tossed at her head. She groaned, interrupting a lovely dream. There had been dancing, and a song, and the warmest of smiles that lit up a pair of blue eyes. She shook her head and forced her eyes open. Dawn had not yet broken, but was threatening to: silver winter light was filtering into the room, enough for Cara to make out the sour woman glowering at her at the end of her bunk.

"Get up, you little worm," the woman spat. "It's time to go!"

"N-no," Cara managed to pull herself up. "Not yet. I don't turn eighteen for another month!"

The woman let out a cackle. "Yeah? You got a birth certificate to back that up? Didn't think so! Up, up!"

She was shoved out of the orphanage, barely managing to say goodbye to the kids whose scrapes she tended to and whose nightmares she soothed with lullabyes for years. Her few clothes were tucked into a rucksack as well as a sketchbook the kids had gotten her. There was a catch on her throat but it was time to move on. She really could only take getting attached to someone who was getting adopted so many times. She had just steeled herself for the journey at the gate when the woman grabbed her wrist.

"Hang on, missy. Wouldn't you like to leave a memento behind for the woman who raised you and fed you these last ten years?"

Cara couldn't help but smirk. "Sure, Nygel," she said as she landed a loud, wet kiss on the woman's cheek. "But you're not getting my watch."

The scowl on the woman's face softens, just a little. "Take care of yourself, missy. Go to the Mountain, a couple's agreed to you on as a maid. Best home I've found for one of you little shits in a while. Don't fuck it up."

Cara beamed at her. " _Together in Polis_ ," she said in her quoting voice. Nygel rolled her eyes.  "That's where I'm gonna go." She started to turn around. She was terrified, but excited to start her journey. Her watch's engraving promised there was a _together_ in Polis. She wanted that _together_. She was going to chase after it no matter what. "May we meet again, Nygel."

"I sure fucking hope not," Nigel calls, as she closes the gates.

Cara indulges in one last wave back to the kids, before turning forward and squaring her shoulders. She wasn't going to cry. She was going to be brave, and find her family.

* * *

 

God, how far can Polis be? She knew, theoretically, how far but her feet were killing her. The heady adrenaline rush of excitement about freedom, the prospect of home, was fading, leaving her cold, tired and alone.

Alone. She has been alone all her life and she was damn sick of it. She desperately wanted to find a family, a clue to who she is, but she knew that it wasn't practical. What was she doing, chasing after some stupid dream? No, she had to turn around and head to the Mountain. Be practical, survive.

But her feet held her down to her spot.

"God, what am I supposed to do?" She called loudly, suspecting that she was going a little batty even as she did it. "Give me a sign or something!"

She looked up angrily at the sky.

Of course.

She held in sobs as she sat herself on the cold hard ground, hugging her knees.  "What am I doing?" she hiccuped.

She had always been practical, smart. She had to be, back at the orphanage. But this promise of a family, of love, was eating away at her. She didn't know if she could ever find it outside of Polis. She didn't even know who she really was. The dreams that sang to her at night were so warm, so loving, that every day when she woke up, she would feel a raging ache that could not be filled. She swiped at her eyes and took in a shaky breath. She looked at the watch on her wrist and gently ran a thumb over its face, when she felt a tugging at her elbow.  She looked for the offender and found a pair of warm brown eyes looking at her with concern.

She tugged her sleeve free of him, and smiled.

"Hey, boy!" She scratched the head of the little ball of fur. It wagged its tail at Cara. She could physically felt her heart melt, as she scooped the warm puppy up into her lap, relishing at the heat that the puppy provided.

"Hey, where are you from?" she asked, checking the puppy's neck for a collar or a tag. As she did so, the puppy slobbered all over her face. Erasing any trace of tears and replacing it with saliva.  "Are you an orphan, too?"

It barked at her and she laughed.

"You sure?"

It only barked louder.

She stood up then, looking down at her new friend.

"Wanna come with me..." She paused, thinking of a name. "Spot?"

The dog blinked.

"Rex. Fido...?"

Still the dog blinked. She let out a huff and looked searchingly at his brown eyes.

"Wells?"

It barked.

"Well then, welcome to the pack, Wells. I seriously hope they like puppies up at the Mountain." She motioned towards the west, but Wells refused to move.

"Come on, boy." She bent down and patted her thighs. "Please, Wells, let's go! We can't keep standing here, boy. We have to get to the Mountain to get food. Food! Sounds good, huh? Come on!"

The puppy growled and grabbed the scarf that had been hanging from her neck in its teeth and started to pull her towards the East.

"No, that's the way to Ark!" Wells tugged harder. A sudden realization dawned on her. "Oh! Oh, okay. Okay, sign-or-something received," she said, glancing up.

She got up on her tired feet and let Wells lead the way. She sighed, resigning herself to the fact that she was following a puppy's lead in deciding her future.

* * *

"Wells!" She wanted her voice to sound sterner than it was, seeing as her new baby has had her running for two and a half days straight until they reached Ark, the capital. She's never walked so much in her life. She's traded two of her skirts for a loaf of bread that she's split between them, but it's down to the crusts. She doesn't have many clothes left to trade. She can't be bothered to pity herself, though. Wells has kept her running during the day, and by the time night has crept in, he would ball himself to her chest, keeping them both warm, despite her ratty old coat being their only protection against the cold. He was her protection against the dreams, the fears with his clear eyes and smelly paws and stubby tail.  
She already loved him beyond anything she can remember, and apparently that love meant following him into a dilapidated old building in the middle of Ark.

"Wells, you dummy," she called, following him into a hole at the side of the building. "Come back here! You're going to get us both in trouble. Again!" She listened for puppy breaths and paws and followed the sounds of Wells until she emerged at a spectacular ballroom. She found him under a table, chewing on the leg. "Silly," she said affectionately, poking her index finger at his nose. She straightened up and looked around.

"Wow," she breathed. "What is this place?" The room was dusty and dark, signs of decay everywhere. She couldn't help but feel that it used to be grand, though. It wasn't just the sheer size of the place, but the sweeping arches and the graceful columns, bits of carpet or drapery here and there that suggested lushness. Little details that she just feels like she knows. Before she knew just what she was doing, she was humming a song and letting her feet dance along, spanning the ballroom with intricate steps. She laughed, throwing her head back. "Come on, Wells! Dance! I forgot how good having space feels." She closed her eyes and danced, when a pair of smiling blue eyes flashes at her behind her lids. She was blissfully happy.

But then her happy reverie was broken by a woman's rich voice echoing into the room.

"Ugh, Bell, we're never finding a Princess Clarke!"

"Shit," Cara whispers. "We gotta get out of here, Wells."

She scooped her puppy from beneath the table and with her heart threatening to jump out of her chest, headed for the hole from which they came from.

Wells had other plans, though. He bound out of her arms towards one of the doors.

"Wells!" She whispered angrily. When he didn't return within a heartbeat, she slunk after him. She was too miffed, too worried about Wells that she barely registered it when her face slams into a hard chest when she turned a sharp corner. When she did, she paled and looked up at the chest's owner slowly.  
He was looking down at her amusedly with dark eyes from beneath a curtain of curls.

"Lost?" He said, quirking a perfect eyebrow at her.

"No," she said firmly, trying to mask her nervousness. She hated feeling trapped. "Not exactly. I'm looking for my dog."

"Your dog," he said slowly, enunciating each word. "Okay?"

She frowned at the incredulity in his voice. She looked him up and down. He was wearing some grey trousers and a white shirt, neither of which looked exactly new but looked great on his toned body. He didn't look like a guard. His high cheekbones and freckles looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place his face to a memory. She could, however, commit it to a new one so she could draw the planes, shadows and angles of his face later.

"Cat got your tongue?" He asked sarcastically. He looked annoyed now. "Look, miss, you really shouldn't be here. Can you just go?"

She glared at him. "And you're supposed to be here? I'm not leaving without Wells."

She pushed past him to look for Wells and found him in a sunny little room at the end of the hall, chewing on a paintbrush.

"Hey," she said softly. "Come on, let's get out of here."

She picked him up and he fit perfectly in the crook of her arms. She turned to go but on her way out something caught her eye. On a termite infested desk sat some oil pastels. Green, and amethyst, and all sorts of luscious shades that she's only been lucky to glimpse at during brilliant sunsets. She picked up a bright red shade and turned it over her free hand longingly.

"Who the hell are you?" said a voice behind her. It was the same woman's voice from earlier in the ballroom. Cara turned, terrified. She saw a skinny young woman, probably her own age, glaring at her with a look that could probably bring kings to their knees, totaled civilizations. She was wearing tight black pants and a blue sweater.

She flicked her green eyes at Cara's arms and the beautiful woman melted and turned into a soft, warm girl. "Hello, beautiful," she murmured, crossing the room.

She looked at Cara, as if for permission. Cara nodded and the girl crouched down to Wells' level and cooed at him and scratched his head.

"What's her name?" The girl smiled up at Cara, tucking a strand of chocolate colored hair behind her ear.

Cara smiled back, unable to resist herself. "His name's Wells."

"Ah, like the count! The one who was betrothed to the little crown princess!" The girl beamed.

"Ah, yeah, I guess," Cara said, shrugging her shoulders. "I didn't really think about it. He just responded to it."

"And you?" the girl prompted. "Do you have a name? I'm Octavia, by the way."

"Cara," she said. "I followed Wells in when he wandered in here. We should be going now, though."

"Well," the girl looked thoughtful. "It is nice to meet you, and Wells, but -"

"So there really is a dog," a baritone voice interrupted.

Cara glared at the man at the door, who was smirking at her. "I was just leaving," she said through gritted teeth.

"Cara, no. Wait!" Octavia grabbed her wrist, smiling a wicked smile. Cara raised her eyebrows.

The man frowned. "O, let her go. We've got work to do."

"No, I don't think we do. Bellamy, look," she breathed, looking at the wall behind Cara.

Bellamy looked, and when he did, his smirk dissolved into disbelief. He stared back at Cara then back at the painting. His eyes kept flitting back and forth. Cara turned around to see a portrait, of the old royal family, she supposed.

She saw Octavia and Bellamy exchange a look. Bellamy grinned and Octavia was all but bouncing. The cocked her eyebrows at the duo, who were obviously related. (They both sported angular lines and dark hair, gorgeous olive skin.)

"Cara..." Octavia all but crooned. "Have you ever considered that you could be a Griffin?"

"Me? A royal?" Cara scoffed. "Fat chance. I'm just nobody with no family. I can't even remember anything from when I was a kid. The only clue I've got is Polis. That's where I'm going..." She trailed off, wondering why she was recounting her entire sob story of a life to perfect, attractive strangers.

Bellamy was suddenly in personal space, clutching her shoulders, facing her to the painting. "Princess, look. You've got Jake's eyes. The Griffin brow. And Abby's lovely chin," he crowed. He held a lock of her hair in between his fingers. "The blondest, of the blondes. You're the princess in the flesh!"

She slapped his hand away, annoyed and a little flustered. Bellamy was handsome, but she knew enough to know that he was an ass. "No, I'm not. I'm the furthest thing from a Princess. Look at me!"

"We are looking at you, Princess," Bellamy grinned, taking out three train tickets. "Look, how would you like a free trip to Polis, huh? You could come, but we only have three tickets. One for me, one for my sister and one for Crown Princess Clarke. Now if you were her, you could come. You could go shopping..."

Cara had tuned him out. Polis. Free trip to Polis. No more walking! She really couldn't get there faster. Sure, she could walk, but she and Wells would either freeze or starve to death. It was the smart move. She was running out of bread.

"Meals, too?" she found herself asking without thinking.

Bellamy stopped in the middle of a long winded sales pitch and smiled triumphantly. "Meals, too."

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I mean, I don't remember anything from my past..."

"Yeah?" Octavia prompted. "You don't. So, who knows who you could be?"

Cara took in a breath, lifting Wells up to her face to look at his sleepy face. She squared her shoulders and jutted her chin out ever so slightly. "I could be Clarke Griffin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I turned Wells into a puppy, I know. I'm kinda sorry. Not beta-read, so constructive critique is highly appreciated!


	3. Remind Me to Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cara's orphan skills come in handy in the snarkiest train ride ever.

_"Clarke, we have to go, sweetheart," a voice said, clear as day among the other noises._

_"Mom, I'm scared. What's happening? Where's dad?"_

_"Polis, baby," the voice reassured her. "We get to go to Polis."_

_“Mom, my music box!”_

_“No time, baby,” the voice pressed urgently. “Let’s go. Please Clarke, I can’t lose you too.”_

* * *

 

Cara woke up with a sob, an ache racking her chest. There was a void in her stomach that was threatening to swallow her up.  She hated these dreams. She never quite remembered the details of them when she woke, but always she was left with something akin to grief. She was about to close her eyes again when she caught a pair of green eyes looking at her with concern.

"Cara, are you okay?" Octavia asked worriedly from across the compartment. She must have fallen asleep on the cushioned seat once the train started going. Despite being in a sitting position, she doesn't think that she's been more comfortable.

"Oh, yeah," Cara waves her off. "Bad dream, that's all."

"I'm not surprised," Bellamy's voice drawled beside her. She was startled by his voice, and squirmed a little when she realized how close he was. Not this asshole again. "Not after all that food that you inhaled. Seriously, how can one tiny girl consume so many sandwiches?"

She shrugged. "I was hungry," she said primly, crossing her legs and sitting up a little straighter. "So was Wells."

"I know that we agreed to feed you," Bellamy drawled, rolling his eyes. "But not your mutt."

Flushing indignantly, Cara raised her finger to his chest. "He is not a mutt! Take that back, you ass!"

Bellamy grabbed her wrist and pushed it back. "Yeah, he is," he said. "Don't take it personally, Princess. I like mutts. We're mutts."

She crossed her arms and turned away from him. "Speak for yourself. I'm a princess, apparently."

"Not yet," he grumbled, mirroring her stance. "You've got a lot to learn before you can be passably Clarke. Except having a stick up your butt, which you’ve mastered, you've got a long way to go, Princess."

"Then why keep calling me that?" she asked irritably.

"Because of the stick up your butt," he said smugly, thinking he's won this petty argument.

"Ah, here I thought it was because of my Griffin brow," she said unable to stop her lips from curling into a sneer. "Or that you use nicknames to undermine others that make you feel vulnerable."

Bellamy stood up suddenly groaning. "You're insufferable!" he shouted, leaving the compartment slamming the partition behind him. She stuck her tongue out at him, but instantly felt childish. She looked at Octavia nervously who has been quietly watching the exchange with amusement. She was sprawled on her seat, feet up and head propped up on her arm. Octavia raised a single eyebrow at Cara.

"Sorry," she offered sheepishly. "I didn't mean to set him off like that."

"Yeah, you did," Octavia said with twinkling eyes. "That's okay. I love Bell, he's my brother and he's taken care of me all my life but he is 'insufferable.' I'm kinda impressed you held your own against him. Most people start crying or falling in love after a while."

Cara laughed at that. "He does this a lot, huh? It's not just me?"

Octavia sat up, grinning as she leaned forward to Cara conspiratorially."Oh you have no idea! One time –"

Whatever fantastic story Octavia was going to regale her with, Cara never got to hear because it was interrupted by Bellamy suddenly returning to the compartment.

"O, we gotta go," he said hurriedly in low tones, grabbing his and Octavia's suitcases from the overhead bins. "You too, Princess. Stay cool but walk fast. Follow O. Don’t. Say. A word."

He pushed her after his sister who was already shrugging her coat on as she exited the compartment. The siblings were quick and quiet as they collected everything and shuffled out of the compartment, avoiding eyes especially Cara's. Cara tried really hard not to be annoyed at being left out of the loop, but sensed that it was important. She kept her mouth shut reluctantly as they walked quickly to the end of the car where they stop and gave each other a conspiratorial look.

"Baggage," they said in unison.

Cara, who had been following suit with her heart in her throat, could not contain herself anymore. "Mind explaining?" she asked tersely. "Why are we leaving our seats?"

"Shut up, Princess," Bellamy ground out, giving her a sidelong glance. "You'll get us thrown out."

Her eyes widened in understanding. “You have false documents?” she whispered, incredulously. “Oh my god.”

“Well, what did you expect?” he demanded, voice low and quiet – threatening. “You magically had a passport? Not sure if you’ve noticed the bureaucratic red tape of this new regime, but you’d at least have to apply for documents.”

“I didn’t ask for you to do _this_!” she screeched, waving her arms up, approaching him.

Octavia stepped lightly in between them, her face undecided whether it wanted to project amusement or annoyance. “Yes, usually, I’d find this amusing and would be keeping score, but there are other pressing matters. In case you forgot. So shut up, the both of you, and let’s go!”

Cara shook her head, but followed Octavia out into the outer part of the car with Bellamy bringing up the rear. Octavia held up a slender hand and took a breath. Cara took a small step back. “Big brother!” Octavia called. “We’re going to have to jump!”

“Be careful, O!” Bellamy called back. Cara could feel him tense behind her. She couldn’t blame him. It was quite a bit of a leap, and the train was moving fast. She watched with baited breath as the other girl took a couple of steps back before launching herself into the next car. Octavia’s form was breathtaking. She was long and lean, and all her limbs were perfectly aligned, making her streamlined. She landed gracefully on the other side.

"Shit!" she shouted, panicking. "Bellamy, I don't think I can jump like that!" She threw her arms out to make her point, but accidentally rammed her hand into his nose.

"Ow, princess,” his eyes widened in shock. His hand moved his hand up to his nose, which was red, but unbloodied. “I think you broke my nose!”

“Men are such babies!” she shouted over the noise of the train. “But I’m sorry!”

“Wow. You’re actually apologizing,” he muttered. He searched her eyes for a bit before sighing and putting his warm hands on her shoulder. He gave her a small reassuring smile. “Look, Princess, it’s not that big of a jump. Even if you don’t quite make it, O will grab your hand. Okay?”

She nodded at his words and took a big steadying breath, and just jumped. She was sure that she looked clumsy compared to Octavia, but she landed (face first) on the other side. She quickly got up before Octavia could pull her up and called to Bellamy. “I made it!”

He grinned widely. “Brave princess.”

He quickly joined the two girls into the baggage compartment with a quick leap.

As soon as the trio stepped inside, the cold air slapped hit them like a slap in the face.

“This is nice,” Bellamy said cheerfully as he pulls his coat on tighter. “Could be a little warmer but at least we’ve removed her highness’ presence from all those peasants.”

“That for my sake or theirs?” Cara countered, sitting herself on one of the suitcases. “Mind telling me the full story now? Why are you going to Polis with fake papers?”

Octavia sighed, settling herself beside Cara. “We’re bringing you to see the old Queen, Abigail. It’s just cheaper this way, okay? Just trust us? You get to Polis, we get a shot at being big-time heroes.”

“I have to go see the Queen?” Cara balked. Octavia shrugged, and Bellamy, without looking at them just piped in that “She’s not the Queen anymore.”

“Oh, no,” Octavia whispered beside her. “I’ve done it now. I’m so sorry Cara. “

Cara furrowed her brow at the other girl. “What?”

“He’s going to give you a history lesson now,” Octavia whispered tiredly, low enough so as to be unheard by her brother who was standing on the other side of the car with his back to them. “He’s a huge-ass nerd. I’m sorry.”

Cara looked over to the man, who had cocked his head to the side, and then turned to them with a glint in his eye. “Hey, Princess, how good is education in the orphanages?”

“Ummm,” Cara began nervously as Octavia rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “Not very?”

* * *

 

Bellamy has been lecturing her for hours on Arkadia’s long, tumultuous history. (You need to know this, Princess. A Griffin would.) He’s also gone off on a tangent about the colorful members of a very extended Griffin family tree. (Don’t roll your eyes, Blondie. You’re supposed to be their family. Didn’t you say you wanted to know your family?) Now, he was making her repeat all of his stupid facts.

“Where was Uncle Jackson’s wife from?”

“Mecha,” she said lazily. Her eyes were closed, and her head was pressed on Octavia’s shoulder. Octavia had long gone to sleep, tuning her brother’s useless facts out with an ease that only came from years of practice.

“When is Jake’s birthday?”

“March fourth.”

“Arkadia’s new form of government?”

“Officially, a centralized socialist republic. But you like to call it fascist.”

“That’s ‘cause it is. Leader of the Revolution?”

“Diana Sydney, I knew that before you told me.”

“Hard not to. Where were the Jahas from?”

“Alpha,” she mumbled. “Wells – person Wells, not puppy Wells – used to bring me the good ink from there.”

Bellamy was quiet, which was strange, so she opened one eye. He was giving her a funny look.

“Did I tell you that?” he asked with a frown.

She shrugged. “Probably.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t look convinced, but didn’t say anything else. Cara closed her eye again and settled into Octavia. She was just drifting off to sleep when he heard Bellamy shuffling around. He was probably off to smoke a cigarette, something which she’s seen him do a couple of times before. She thinks he does it because it makes him look cool, and distant. And secretly, he actually thinks. She heard the little door open, which confirmed her suspicions. She was half-asleep by the time she heard him yell.

Octavia immediately sat up, throwing Cara off. “What’s wrong big brother?” she called, scrambling to get to him. She ran to him, but tripped over a stray suitcase. Cara recovered from her fall, and came to Octavia’s side.

“Hey,” she pulled Octavia up from the floor, examining her. She winced when she saw that the brunette’s brow had split. “Oh, you’re bleeding, we gotta stop that.”

Octavia shook her head, trying to get up, but wincing. She groaned and doubled over as she reached for her ankle. “Go help my brother then come back to me! Please!” Octavia commanded.

Cara nodded, crossing the car to see what happened to Bellamy. She paled when she say that he was precariously leaning over the slippery railings trying to get something from under the base. She the back of his shirt to pull him back up, when she finally saw what he had in his hand. Wells.

She took Wells from him and patted the shivering puppy. The poor darling must have been cold and terrified, and so she felt immensely grateful to Bellamy. She decided to express this by giving him a disapproving look. “You could have fallen!”

He shrugged it off, smiling. “Your mutt did. I figured you’d never have forgiven me for letting him out of the car and then letting him die.”

She nodded, but smiled at him gratefully. “Thank you.”

“S’nothing, Princess.” He smiled at Wells, and then at her.

“Cara!” Octavia’s voice called from inside. “He okay?”

“Shit, we’ve got to get to your sister,” she told him. He frowned as he followed her back inside.

Cara was at once at the other girl’s side, ripping a piece of her scarf off to use as a rag to stop her wound from bleeding.

“Jesus, O,” Bellamy’s angry voice came from behind her. “What the hell happened?”

Octavia glared up at her brother. It was incredible how stupid long the two can glare at each other when all they were was concerned about each other’s wellbeing. Cara felt a little twang of jealousy and she dabbed Octavia’s forehead clean. “I tripped on a fucking suitcase ‘cause your stupid ass decided to get in trouble.”

“You tripped?” he asked, his tone shifted from all worried anger to worried amusement. “And you managed to split your forehead open?”

“And twist my ankle,” Octavia said plaintively now, annoyance drained out of her voice. “It hurts.”

Cara chuckled. “It’s okay. It’s nothing serious and I’ve got this,” she reassured the siblings. “We almost never got doctors in the orphanage, but whenever she could come around, Doctor Lahiri would teach me a few things. I can handle the basic wounds and sprains. Bellamy, hand me my rucksack and your flask.”

“My flask?” Bellamy, repeated dumbly. As if she didn’t see him sneak a few sips in every now and then. “Why?”

“Alcohol. To disinfect,” Cara said slowly but firmly. “Quickly, Bellamy.”

Bellamy handed her pack and a flask. She quickly fished out a needle and a threat, which she disinfected. She splashed the alcohol on her hands and handed it to Octavia. “Drink,” she urged. “It will make the pain bearable.

“Damn,” Bellamy muttered. “What did they teach you in the orphanages?”

Octavia took a long swig, and handed it back to Cara. Cara poured it over the wound, dabbing the excess and Octavia winced. Steadily, she closed up Octavia’s would in small, even stitches.

“Okay,” Cara sighed. “Bloody part is over, now for the painful part.”

She took Octavia’s boot off and gently ran a cool hand over it. She took her scarf and wrapped the ankle expertly and then massaged Octavia’s calves. She could feel Bellamy hovering above her, but he was slowly relaxing as time was passing. By the time she had propped Octavia’s feet up on the offending suitcase, he had sat down and was petting Wells.

“Thank you,” Octavia said, reaching her arms out to Cara. She chuckled and hugged Octavia. “I like you, Cara. You’re not scared of Bell, you’re so pretty, and you love Wells. I might even love you. I’ve never had a sister. You wanna be my smart, doctor-y sister? Please, I will love you. I’ll braid you hair!!”

“Okay, sweetheart,” she laughed. She may have allowed her new friend too many swigs from Bellamy’s flask. “But first we should sleep, huh?”

“Okay,” Octavia nodded peacefully, and Cara thought for sure she was going to comply. That was until her eyes widened. Suddenly, she was turning her body to where Bellamy and Wells were. “Wells! C’mere! Bell, you too! It’s cold and we need warmth. Cuddle pile!”

Bellamy got up from his spot and was at his sister’s side. “Glad you’re okay, you klutz.”

“Always am,” Octavia smiled. “Just… What were you yelling about anyway?”

Cara snickered and Bellamy glared at her. “He was saving Wells from certain death. He likes Wells, he just pretends not to care.”

Octavia hummed and pulled Wells and Cara down beside her. “That’s how he always is with whatever he likes, the big softie.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes but started to lie down as well. Cuddle pile indeed. There was a few seconds of silence before Bellamy sat up and took off his scarf and tossed it at Cara. “Wear that.”

“Bellamy,” she whispered into the darkening car. “Do you really think I’m royalty?”

“You know I do,” he said, a little too earnestly.

“Then stop bossing me around,” she retorted, wrapping the scarf around her. She fell asleep smelling smoke, wood and soap on the scarf. She liked the way he smelled. They all lapse into comfortable silence and finally fell asleep.

It was a few hours when Bellamy suddenly stood up, jolting the two girls awake. “Something’s wrong,” he muttered. “We’re going too fast.”

Very suddenly, there was a loud explosion at the end of the car that sent them all toppling. The baggage disengaged from rest of train, and the engine and their car was hurtling forward in a dangerous speed. Bellamy groaned as he pushed himself off the floor. Cara pulled Octavia up into a sitting position; they looked each other in the eye with a mix of confusion and trepidation. “I’ll go check with the engine,” he said, walking towards the other side of the car.

He opened the door that opened to the engine, and spat, “Hell, fuck me," he spat.

“What’s wrong, Bell?” Octavia called, her brows knit together.

“The whole engine’s up in flames,” he said, turning towards them with this jaw clenched. He turned around again and jumped out onto the link between the two cars. “O!” he shouted. “Hand me a wrench or a something. Anything!”

“Here,” Cara handed him a wrench.

“O, not you!” he shouted at her.

Cara placed her hands on her hips. “Your sister’s ankle is sprained, remember?”

“Alright, whatever,” he nodded, banging the wrench on the steel link. Cara watched his muscles work as he slammed the wrench down, her mouth turning dry. Suddenly, she had to turn around and looking around the car in order to bring the flush on her cheeks down. That’s when she spotted a box of explosives. She grinned wickedly and returned to Bellamy just as he was shouting “This isn’t working!”

She handed him lit TNT quietly. He blinked before jamming it into the link. “That works, Princess. Shit, you really gotta tell me what they teach you at the orphanages,” he said not without a twinge of admiration.

He was climbing back up into the car when his hand slipped, and for a moment he was actually afraid, his weight was shifting down and he thought for sure he was going to fall. That was, before a small, pale hand grasped his wrist with a surprisingly strong grip. He looked at her for a beat. Her blue eyes were steely and determined.

“If we live through this,” he grunted out. “Remind me to thank you, princess.”

He was pulled safely back into the car before the TNT went off, and only when Octavia coughed did they realize that their hands were still linked. Cara turned towards the door and Bellamy faced his sister, clearing his throat.

“What now, Bell?” Octavia asked.

“We coast to a stop,” Bellamy shrugged.

“Uhhh,” Cara piped up. “I don’t think that’s possible.” She pointed at a broken bridge that they were still careening towards.

Bellamy breathed out through his nose sharply. “We jump,” he said, looking between the women. Octavia nodded, and so did Wells. Bellamy helped his sister up, and slung her across his back. Cara scooped Wells up into a large pocket of her coat and crabbed her rucksack and Octavia’s suitcase in her right hand. Bellamy was on her left standing at the side opening, Octavia clinging onto his back. He looked at her and she nodded, breathing in courage.

His eyes never left hers as his warm, calloused hand wrapped around hers. “On three, we go together.”

“One.” Octavia’s grip on her brother tightened a little.

“Two.” She shifted a little to feel Wells’ weight in her pocket.

“Three,” Bellamy commanded, as his grip on her hand tightened. She squeezed back before launching herself out of the car.

They land in a screaming heap on the snow, and when they recovered she and Bellamy were laughing their asses off while Octavia groaned about her ankle.

“Well that was crazy,” Bellamy beamed as he grabbed Octavia’s shoulders in his right arm and Cara’s in his left. Cara smelled the wood and the smoke and the soap. “I’m just glad my girls are okay.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned slooooow burn, yes? I might have gotten a little excited, and wrote more that I expected to. Critique is most welcome and helpful!


	4. Polis Holds the Key to the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bell,” Octavia cocks her head to the side. “Lighten up. Didn’t you hear Raven? She’s already Clarke.”

His sister had taken to the blonde rather quickly. Once he sat Octavia down on the bus after their walk from the tracks (which was thankfully, miraculously short), the two began giggling and gossiping about. They talked at length, Octavia told her the story of their lives, which is something he’d rather not hear told to someone else, thank you very much. The princess had reciprocated, though. He tried not to eavesdrop, really, but he couldn’t help but overhear little bits and pieces here and there. The girl didn’t have an easy life, which probably explains the ferocity in everything she does; especially the way she protected her little mutt. He understood that, the need to protect someone else from the hard times you went through, which made him respect her a little more than he’d like to admit. True, she was standoffish and pushy and all too uptight, but every now and then he would need to take a second to recover from her surprising intelligence and passion when she spoke. She could be terrifying to people who weren’t Blakes. It made it even more irresistible to rile her up. That and the fact that she flushes pink when agitated, like she was doing now.

“Why do we have to see this Raven person?” she asked again.

Octavia patted her arm, limping only just a little now as they walked to Raven’s home outside of Polis. The princess supported her with an arm slung on her shoulder. He was grateful to have someone else take care of O. It was nice. “Don’t worry, Cara, it’s going to be fun!”

“And you’ll have to answer a few questions, but you’ve got this. You know all the facts,” he grinned at her, reaching over to tap the top of her head. “You have a good head on your shoulders.”

“Was that a compliment, Blake?” she raised her eyebrows at him, but there was no venom in her voice. She laughed, “I have an irritatingly persistent teacher.”

“Okay, look,” he said serious now. A lot was riding on this, and he didn’t know if they were going to     get another chance. It had to go well. “Raven is the queen’s confidante, like a pseudo-daughter or something. She was daughter of one of the workers in the palace. She was a stow-away in the escape train. Abigail took her under her wing, and she knows everything about Clarke and Abigail. We need to convince her first that you could be Clarke before she takes us to see Abigail.”

Cara looked at him, blue eyes boring into his own. “Cara, listen,” he returned her gaze in earnest, placing a hand on her shoulder. He was surprised at the use of her name. He never liked it, it didn’t suit her. He needed to get her to listen, though. “These past weeks, you’ve learned the entire Arkadian history, Clarke’s personal history, ride a horse, how to play the piano, how to have some damn table manners. It’s pretty amazing. Screw fear. Your life can change, Princess. You’ve worked for this, now take that chance. This is your chance.”

She blinked at him, and he can see the wheels turning in her pretty little head. It seemed like an eternity before she nodded at him, eyes steely with determination. “Our chance.”

His chest puffed with pride. “That’s my brave princess,” he smiled at her, ruffling her hair. He motioned forward. “Let’s go, then.”

The girls followed him into a well manicured lawn.

Octavia whistled low, “Raven’s doing pretty well for herself these days, huh?”

He chuckled at that. "You should see her mess inside. You know Raven, brilliant, but can't seem to put a wrench back in place, "he said fondly. He saw something flicker over Cara's eyes but it was gone in an instant.

"How do you know her?" she asked lightly, tucking a piece of loose hair behind her ear.

"Ah, Raven and I go way back," he said honestly. "Back when I worked at the palace when I was a kid."

She nodded, expression unreadable. "Lead the way."

Bellamy cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out if her nerves were going to overwhelm her. "You're alright, Princess," he murmured as he knocked loudly on the door. Raven would never hear it otherwise.

"Coming!” Raven’s voice echoed from within. There were a few bangs and clangs of metal as Raven let out a slew of creative swearwords. “What’s up, Blakes?” the beautiful brunettes swings the doors open. She raises her eyebrows at Cara, considering her. “You their Clarke?”

The other girl stood up straighter, nodding. She isn’t as intimidated of Raven as most people usually are and she’s every bit as regal as Bellamy’s real Clarke. Bellamy smiled at memory of the little princess. Stubborn, passionate and utterly bright. He didn’t like her at first, with her delicate little toys and her pretty little paints, and everything that his little sister never had. The little princess was, however, a nightmare to everyone in the court. She had amused Bellamy, what could he do? The way she stole cakes conspicuously and then threw her head back in laughter at her “achievement” endeared her to him, even if he was invisible to her. She had laughed real laughs, unlike all the people in the dying, lavish court. His fingers find the jewelry box in his jacket, their ace up the sleeve. This was supposed to be the clinched the ruse. He wasn’t so sure it was so necessary now.

His eyes flit to the girl in front of Raven, she was throwing hear head back in laughter at something sarcastic Raven said. Okay, maybe she wasn’t regal, just Clarke-like.

Raven nods at him, breaking his reverie. “Blake,” she drawls. “I’m a little too hung over for this. We’re going shopping for Clarke here first before I interrogate her.”

Octavia squeals. “Shopping!”

Raven laughs, pointing to somewhere down the hall. “Come on, I’ve got some food if you guys are hungry.”

Cara follows Raven excitedly. Watching her tension melt away at the mention of food.

Octavia watched her brother as he hung back from following the girls.

“Bell,” she cocks her head to the side. “Lighten up. Didn’t you hear Raven? She’s already _Clarke._ ”

Bellamy nods quietly and follows Raven into the kitchen, with his sister’s scrutinizing eyes behind him. He chalks up the nagging feeling in his head to the fact that he was nervous about Raven being convinced, and not a shift in the way he feels for the little blonde.

They ate lunch easily in Raven’s home and by the time they had reached the dress shops in Polis, Raven was half in love with Cara. You couldn’t really tell, if you didn’t know Raven. The way that she smiled at the other girl and only rolled her eyes every other minute might just be the normal signs of interaction for others, but for Raven it was a sign of true affection. Bellamy couldn’t blame her. Raven’s toughness and candidness meshed well with the straight forward and no-nonsense sensibilities of Clarke – Cara.

He didn’t pay much attention to the shopping. Raven owed him a few favors, particularly imported parts she couldn’t have gotten without raising a few official eyebrows, so the shopping was all on her. He wandered off for a few beers before returning to find the women finished with their shopping. Octavia was bubbling with excitement, but Raven and Cara looked tired.

“Ready to go?” he asked amusedly at the disheveled state of Raven and Cara’s hairs.

Raven glared at him. “Your sister’s still a terror.”

Cara chuckled, deep and rich. “That she is. Can we go back to your place? Or just… sit down?”

“We can go back,” she muttered “But we’re not done yet, Clarkie.” That made her tense.

“Questions time?”

“Questions time.”

Bellamy took a big inhale, show time. His eyes flicked to his sister who gave him a nod. She’s got this. He had to just remember to breathe, and let her do this. His eyes flicked to her now. She looked determined, her jaw setting as she nodded at Raven. Then her eyes find his – blue eyes that were definitely anxious, but also stubbornly determined. Did she have to keep on making that face her whole life? He wanted to take all the anxiety away from this brave girl. Probably sensing his distress, she smiled at him mouthing _it’s okay_.

* * *

 

It was okay. She breezed right through the questions quickly, even if the interrogation did take three hours. Raven was nothing if not thorough and dedicated to her work.

“Okay, Clarke, how do you take your tea?” Raven raised her eyebrow as she sat lazily on the sofa, growing more impressed by the minute.

“I don’t like tea, just how water and lemon,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She was still nervous, despite sailing through everything, she sat ramrod straight in the chair across Raven. Bellamy was pacing, and Octavia distracted herself by petting Wells.

There was an interminable silence as Raven considered Cara. It took nerves of steel not to squirm under Raven’s gaze, but the blonde held her own until Raven let out the quietest of sighs.

“You could be her, you could be Abby’s Clarke. Best shot I’ve seen ever,” she says quietly, like she’s just given them a death sentence. Her eyes were down on her hands. “But Abby’s done. She won’t see anyone else.”

Octavia got up on her feet, putting Wells down. “Raven no! Please, look at her. She is Clarke!”

Raven ran a hand over her jaw. “I know that, Octavia. Look. Tomorrow night, Abby and I are going to a fancy art show by an exiled Arkadian, Lincoln. A party’s going to follow after. Fancy dress. Maybe…” Raven’s eyes were trained on Bellamy now, holding his gaze. “Maybe later, you decide want to check it out.”

Bellamy nodded, understanding. “Thanks for everything, Raven.”

“If I wasn’t so convinced, I really wouldn’t be risking it. Even if I owe you parts,” Raven smirked now, before her expression softened ever so briefly. “She’s tired. I just don’t want her to get more hurt.”

“We know that Rae,” Octavia said.

Cara quietly reached out for Raven’s hand. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, either.”

Raven squeezed her hand before cackling. “Okay, enough drama. Tonight, we drink! Monty and Jasper are coming over soon. They have a new batch of shine. We’re going to party American style.”

Octavia wrinkled her nose. “All the fine wines in Polis and you choose to drink Monty’s moonshine.”

Raven grins. “Gets the job done much faster.”

Soon enough their goofy friends Monty and Jasper have arrived, already drunk. An old colleague of Bellamy’s, Miller also tagged along. A few other friends of Raven also showed up. After all the introductions, in which Jasper unsuccessfully makes a pass at both Octavia and Cara, the bunch had settled into a relaxed and laughing crowd. Monty had brought a record player and some music records, and some people were dancing and flirting in the space opened up by pushing the seating to the side.

Bellamy had been catching up with Miller near the table that was serving as a makeshift bar when he spotted his sister drag Cara away from the sitting room where everyone was. When they returned, he has completely tuned out what Miller was saying about how he ended his business of transporting stolen goods. Cara, who had been introduced to everyone as “Clarke” by Raven was out of her oversized coat, men’s shirt and ratty leggings. She’s wearing an actual dress. It was a pale blue one that mirrored her eyes and hugged her body, exposing her arms and her pale, strong calves. Her golden curls shone in the light. Bellamy felt his mouth go dry. _This is what a princess looked like._

Apparently Miller didn’t care that Bellamy stopped listening to him. He was quiet too, looking at Clarke – looking at Cara. “Damn, Blake,” he muttered after two heartbeats, without lifting his eyes of off Bellamy’s princess. “I knew you were good at this, whole con thing. This isn’t just a good job, though. You got lucky, man.”

Bellamy couldn’t help but agree. He was used to claiming all the good things in his life. He had to fight tooth and nail against the world to keep himself and his sister alive and well. Everything he had, he had to work, beg, fight or con for. Everything but Octavia, and now this girl.

Suddenly, Octavia was grabbing his arm and dragging him away from Miller. “Bell! You have to teach her how to dance, for tomorrow!”

Bellamy was about to protest when Cara grinned at him. “Can you? I don’t know how, but I’ve always wanted to learn!”

Bellamy nodded, as Octavia scuffled away to see if Monty had any slower “fancy-party-appropriate” songs. As the song began, Bellamy grinned at his partner, and led her to the pseudo-dance floor. She wasn’t a bad dancer, once she got the hang of the basic few steps. Not nearly as fluid as Octavia, but she carried herself gracefully.

“I know the problem,” Bellamy suddenly blurted out.

The princess raised an eyebrow at him.

“You won’t give up control, Princess,” Bellamy explained, gesturing at their intertwined hands. He squeezed her waist lightly. He noted absently that her hands are warm and not as soft as they look. “You usually are supposed to let the men take the lead on the dance.”

She grinned at him with soft pink lips and a sparkle in her eye. “Do you want me to let you take the lead?”

Bellamy threw his head back to laugh. “Not for a minute, Princess. It wouldn’t be dancing with you if you let me lead.”

She gave him a small smile that sets off some flipping on the part of his stomach. What a girl. She was so smart, so confident, and damn it if she wasn’t the most delicately beautiful thing he’s ever seen. She was never intimidated by either of the Blakes, and took care of them. By this point, she was one of their own, and he could tell that they were hers, too.

She steps in a little closer to him and fires set off in his palms, on his collar, his hipbone, and basically everywhere that she touches him. He looked down on her. Damn it. Her skin glowed against the blue fabric, and her curves swelled against him.

“That dress,” Bellamy said, finding his voice quieter than he expected. “It looks good on you. You should wear it.”

She looked at him with an amused expression. “I am wearing it.”

He shook his head. _Get your shit together, Blake._ “Yeah, of course. I was just…” he ran a hand over his face. “I was trying to tell you - to give you a… a-”

“A compliment?” she asked with a small, breathless voice.

“Yes,” he said gruffly. “A compliment.”

The song ended, and Bellamy hung onto her waist just a second longer than necessary. “Thanks for the dance, Princess.”

She nodded. Then, she surprised him by surging forward and holding him tight in her little arms. “Thanks, Bellamy,” she murmured into his shirt. “For everything.”

He breathed in her scent, like snow and cinnamon wrapping his arms around her bare shoulders. “Anytime, Princess. Thank you, as well.”

“Hey lovebirds!” Raven called. “Come say hi to Wick!”

They drew apart, smiling sheepishly at each other. They mingled throughout the night but often finding each other’s eyes. By the time the night ended and they were helping Raven clean up, all of them were exhausted but satisfied. Suddenly, Raven’s voice sounded.

“Hey Clarke. I have a question, and if you’re not comfortable answering it, I completely understand,” Raven drawled, not looking at anyone in the sitting area in particular. “I just have to ask. How did you escape the siege of the palace?”

Bellamy tensed up, slowly facing the girls with horror in his face. They didn’t tell her that. Nobody knew. He saw Octavia’s face fall. This was it. They were all screwed. This was their last chance of getting out of the slums, of faking papers, of making money under the table and still barely scraping by. None of them would ever be able to go back to Arkadia and make anything of themselves. He swallowed, looking at the girl who was their last hope, and whose last hope they had been. She was so young. He fingered the jewelry box in his jacket. Not even this can save them now.

She leaned back against a wall, thoughtful. “You’re going to think this is stupid… but there was a boy,” she said, with a far off look in her face. Octavia perked back up, listening. “A boy who worked for the kitchens, I saw him once or twice before. He opened a passage in the wall…”

She trailed off, laughing. “Ugh, stupid, isn’t it? I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I get my head into sometimes.”

Octavia looked at Bellamy, a million emotions flashing through in seconds. They have found Clarke Griffin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not super happy with this chapter, but we had to move on. How does one write parties? Again, not beta-read so please forgive me for the mistakes and I'd love your critique!


	5. Your Thanks, Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're at the precipice, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheee, we finally get to call her Clarke!  
> Also forgive me for updating late. The muses kind of left me for a bit there, and this chapter was me working through the block, so it's not the best but stick around and I promise real plot and some badassery moments. For now we get some kind of weird, in between dialogue-y chapter. Idek. Sorry for this. But we get Octavia's POV! We return to Clarke for the last two, I think.  
> Again, critique is most welcome!
> 
> Edit: I forgot a little tiny bit when i posted last night. The "here's what Clarke's wearing" bit is here now.

Octavia’s hands were trembling so violently that she contemplated putting the glasses back down on the table before she dropped them. She gulped, but it’s not too long before she finds her composure again. She’s not the best conwoman in Arkadian history for nothing. She turned towards where Raven was, between her and the kitchen, and saw her nodding with a smile on her face.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “That’s how Abby remembers it, too.”

“Huh,” Cara huffed, smiling at Octavia. She looked pleased, and relieved. Octavia was, too, but she was also nervous about what this all meant for them. This was not the plan. This is not what they were planning on doing. But of course, this was great. They were returning the actual princess to her actual mother.

Octavia gave the girl an encouraging smile before turning to her brother who had apparently forgotten all of their training and was still balking at the blonde.

“Hey Bell, do you have a smoke?” Octavia said as she grabbed her brother’s arm tightly and led his out on the patio, leaving two confused women behind them. “I could use one right now.”

“You don’t smoke, O,” Bellamy said tightly as Octavia shuts the door behind them.

“I know that, you ever-loving idiot,” she rolled her eyes at him. “I just needed you to get out of there before you threw up on Raven’s shiny floors.”

“I was intending to do no such thing,” Bellamy retorted as color rose to his cheeks. The crease between his brows still didn’t fade, though.

“Well, your face was going to ruin everything, you big dummy,” Octavia said to him in the gentlest of ways only sisters can insult you while comforting you. “Did we never train for this? Could you not get your crap together?”

“Uh, let’s see,” he tapped his finger to his head. “Did we ever fucking train to bring the most annoying little orphan urchin to Polis to pretend that she’s the Crown Princess only to find out that she’s actually Clarke? No? Must have forgotten to account for that contingency.”

“Nothing’s gonna change in the plan, Bellamy! We bring her to Abigail, collect the reward without lying for once, and she gets her family,” she told him as calmly as she could. “Everyone gets their happy ending. We’ll be rich! All of us.”

Bellamy continued to look at his shoes with incredible sadness. This was finally their break; it was so close she could taste it, but Bellamy looks as sad as the day they lost their mother, the day Clarke was lost to the world.

_Oh._

Octavia puts her hand on his cheek, willing him to look at her.

“Bellamy,” she whispered. It was enough.

“No,” he coolly smiled at her, putting his walks back up around him. He nods once, as if resolving all the matters of the world. “No, you’re right. Nothing’s going to change in the plan.”

She tilted her head sadly at him. It hurt her almost as much as it hurt him. They weren’t a pair who trusted others easily. Each other were all that they needed, but here came the little hurricane and she weaseled her way into their hearts.

“We were never going to get to keep her, anyway,” he says, slinging his arm over her shoulder, turning her towards the street. Even then, she could feel the frown on his face. “I’ve got all that I need right here.”

Octavia rested her head against her brother. This was new. They’ve survived poverty, being chased by the police, the gangs, the flu that one year. They’ve never dealt with heartbreak, but they will weather this too, like they always have.

“I’m going to sleep,” Bellamy said, stepping away from his sister. “I hear real beds are pretty nice to sleep on.”

She nodded at watched his retreating figure. She noted the tension in his back, and the slope of his shoulders. She didn’t know that this was the cost of getting out of their dreary life. If she’d known, she’d have thought about whether she wanted to do it a little harder.

Octavia goes to bed uneasily, knowing that her brother was in pain. However, Bellamy was right. Real beds were fucking fantastic and she falls asleep rather quickly only to be woken a few hours later by a scream. Octavia untangled herself from the sheets and blearily searched for the source of the sound. She walked slowly and quietly, a little wary for her safety. Then, she realized that she was hearing sobbing from the direction of the guest room where Clarke was set up. She briskly made her way into the room to find Clarke curled around Bellamy who was murmuring to her.

“It’s alright, princess,” he said softly while stroking her hair. “It was just a bad dream. It wasn’t real.”

Octavia saw that she was gripping Bellamy’s arms like a vice. “Every time I wake up it just fucking hurts,” she wept. “And _I can’t remember_.”

Octavia's heart broke at how pained she sounded. “Hey,” she said softly. “You guys need anything?”

Bellamy looked up at her, startled. “I got this, O,” he reassured her, while making slow circles on Clarke’s arm with his thumb. “Go back to bed.”

Clarke sniffed, but managed a fragile smile for Octavia. “I’ll be alright, Octavia.”

Octavia nodded, but watched them for a few beats. He continued to whisper soft words and rub her back the way he used to do for Octavia back when their Mom had just died. Clarke was struggling to keep her breath regular, like he used to do when he didn’t think Octavia could see.

Octavia sighed and went back to bed. What a right fucking mess their little family was.

She woke the next morning determined to get everything back to normal. She padded to the kitchen to see the girls seated beside each other on the counter having breakfast. Clarke looked much better than last night.

She waves at Raven who nods at her. Raven is _not_ a morning person.

“Hey Clarke,” she greeted the blonde who was sipping on a hot water with lemon. There were dark circles under her eyes, but color had returned to her cheeks.

“You too, huh?” she laughed, leaning across the counter to reach for a piece of toast. “I guess I’ve got to get used to answering to that.”

“Do you mind?” she wondered out loud, as she grabbed some toast for herself before wedging herself in the tiny bit of counter in between Raven and Clarke. It would be weird, thinking you’re called one thing your whole life and finding out you’re actually named something else. It’s not just acting, it’s whole shift in identity.

“Nah,” Clarke waved her hand nonchalantly. “No one really calls you anything in the orphanage. You’re just called ‘blondie’ or ‘idiot’ or ‘bum.’ So I don’t really have real attachments to my name.”

“That’s good,” Octavia nodded thoughtfully. “I hope you make a real attachment to ‘Clarke.’”

Clarke hummed. “I actually like it better than Cara, it rolls off the tongue better. It’s more pleasant.”

Octavia looked at this girl. She wanted to hate her for what she’s done to her brother. She wanted to hate her for her power. But she knew of none of it, and she was just as innocent as they were, if not more. She smiled sadly, it was good that she liked her name, even though she didn’t realize it was actually her birthright.

“I’m glad.”

“Oh, by the way,” Clarke said sheepishly. “Sorry for waking you last night. It doesn’t happen as often any more, but it still sucks as bad as when it first came when it does,” she explains ruefully.

“S’all right,” Octavia pats her head. “Happens to the best of us. Meaning it happened to me, too.”

Clarke grinned at her, and Octavia couldn’t help but grin back. They ate their breakfast cheerfully as Octavia prepped Clarke for the evening’s party. Raven grumbled around in the background but they knew she was still hovering about so she could listen in. After a while, Bellamy emerged from his room.

He nodded at the girls and tilted his head at Clarke, who smiled softly at him. He grabbed a cup of coffee as the others watching him, and then stalked off back to his room without a word.

“What is up with your brother? Does he think the moody, mysterious vibe will make Clarkie be attracted him?” Raven asked raising her eyebrow at Octavia.

Clarke choked on her water. Octavia glared at Raven over Clarke’s head as she thumped the spluttering blonde’s back.

“He’s just nervous, is all,” she said her most nonchalant voice as she stared daggers at the other girl. Clarke was too preoccupied with coughing to notice her death stare, but once that was over Octavia smiled sweetly at her. “Ready to go dress shopping?”

Clarke groaned. “Octavia! We just did that yesterday!”

She laughed at the horror at the faces of the two women in front of her. She held her hands up. “Alright, what do you want to do? We could grab lunch in the city, see the museum? It might be good to get you to practice walking in skirts and proper shoes.”

Clarke’s eye widened so comically that Octavia was actually afraid that blue was going to spill down her face. “The museum?”

Raven nodded as she started clearing the dishes away. “We should go to the museum.”

“Yeah, that way, we can get Bell to come with us,” Octavia was a woman on a mission. She was going to see this plan through. She would see her friend safely and warmly off with her real family, and after that her own little family was going away to the Philippines to live happily ever after. Doesn’t mean they can’t all have a little fun in the meantime.

Octavia managed to wrangle Bellamy out of his room and drag him out. He put a little damper on the excursion but the girls manage to soldier on and enjoy sightseeing all the cheesy tourist spots. He frowns at everyone and everything and the only time when Octavia doesn’t want to smack her brother upside the head is when Clarke made goofy faces at Bellamy. When a woman handed Clarke a free flower “for the pretty girl,” she thanked her and then turned to Bellamy to tuck it into his pocket. He actually smiled then, and that worried Octavia a little more.

They went into the Polis Historical Museum after lunch in a café and things were going pretty well. Clarke enjoyed the art and it’s honestly the cutest thing Octavia has ever seen how her entire face lights up when she sees a painting that she likes. Bellamy, Raven and Octavia have been to the museum before, when the Blakes visited Raven a few years ago at Bellamy’s insistence. While Bellamy enjoyed seeing all the historical artifacts again, he was a little distracted.

They almost make it through the day. Almost.

Clarke had been doing beautifully in the shoes. They weren’t even that high. Three inches. She had to practice. However, she could not navigate the tricky steps as they exited the building. She trips almost gracefully and Octavia sees it in slow motion: her body bowing forward, her hair cascading sideways, her brother’s hand shooting forward and catching her waist, his arm circling the rest of the way as he wrapped his body around the blonde. By the time they had landed with a thud at the bottom of the steps, Bellamy had been able to shift her on top of himself.

Octavia and Raven ran down the rest of the steps in time to see Clarke push herself off Bellamy and hear Bellamy’s groan of pain. 

“Bellamy!” Clarke’s cry was panicked, but she sounded unhurt. She leaned over him with assessing eyes. “What the hell? Are you all right?”

“Are _you_ all right?” he said as his eyes scanned her with equal concern.

“Yeah, dummy,” she said. “Thanks to you. That was sweet and all but you didn’t have to do that.”

Bellamy groaned once more as he sat up. “Consider this your thanks for the train, Princess.”

She huffs out a laugh, but it still sounded miffed. “That’s silly. You could have broken something!”’

He smirked. “Better me than the Princess, Clarke.”

Octavia saw a bit of hurt flash over Clarke’s eyes. “Right. Today’s your big day,” she said, getting up to dust herself off.

Bellamy nodded solemnly as Raven gave him a hand so he could stand. “Yeah, that’s it. We should probably get you home so you can get ready, huh?”

She nodded and they all troop home in relative silence.

Raven raised her eyes at Octavia, but she only shrugged in return. Now’s not the time to push anything. Too late, too close, too much. Octavia hated that the best of possibilities, the sweetest of chances turn up in the most fucked up of ways with the worst of timings. If she had believed in deities, she’d be certain that they were laughing at humanity. But no, it just seems that they have the weirdest of lucks.

She sighed as she reset her mind. She had a job to do, and Octavia was nothing if not focused when there was a mission. She herded Clarke up to her room and brought out the many dresses that they bought yesterday. She showed Clarke the basic dance moves again, thinking that Bell would have done a better job, but Clarke was a fast learner. She rattled off facts, corrected her accent here and there so it sounded more posh. Clarke picked everything up naturally. Octavia saw that Clarke was nervous, but by the time Octavia was finishing up the last touches on the braids of her hair, and Raven was finishing up her left eyebrow, she was almost calm the way warriors are before a battle. Good. She knew she liked this girl. Octavia wondered a little what it would have been like to have had Clarke Griffin as a princess. Would she have been as fierce, as smart, as quick and loyal as this orphan girl who was left to defend herself in this world? Probably not, Octavia thought, but if she turned out to be a princess who was half the woman in front of her, it would probably be not so awful.

“All right, you might be ready,” she proclaimed, brandishing her hair brush in the air. “Stand up, and let me see you.”

She stood up to face the other girls. Her golden waves were swept up in a braided halo in top of her head. Her midnight blue dress was fashionably loose around the waist, but was cut low on the back and the expanse of creamy skin on her back and her arms looked absolutely divine. Octavia had lent her some stone earrings and Raven presented her with a long string of pearls to hang around her neck.

“So…?” Clarke raised her eyebrows. “We okay to see the Queen?”

“More than okay,” Raven said. “You look beautiful. I’ll see you guys at the party, okay?” With that, the other girl dashed off in her own car to meet Abby.

The last bit of the plan was in motion.

Bellamy was waiting for them in the sitting room when they emerged, and he gulped audibly when he set his eyes on Clarke. Octavia would have laughed if it wasn’t so damned tragic.

“Princess,” he started as he stood up, offering her his arm.

Clarke smiled coyly, slipping her hand around his arm expertly. “Not a princess anymore,” she deadpanned.

“Ready to do this?” he smirked, challenge in his eyes.

“I was born ready,” Clarke said. Ain’t that the fucking truth.


	6. Together in Polis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke meets Abby Griffin

Clarke wandered around the party, enthralled by the art that hung on the walls. The artist perfectly captured a longing and an ache of homesickness with the whole collection. She was in front of a large portrait, enjoying the silence. Bellamy had gone off to try to find Abigail, and Octavia was distracted by the artist. She considered the painting. It was of a peasant woman and a brood of children were seated together by a hearth, with their backs to the viewer. The colors were drab, and there was darkness all around the portrait. It was as if you knew you would be cold if you stepped into the scene. The one bright spot of color though was the woman. Her head was turned a little so you could see her face, and she looked so warm. Clarke couldn’t help but sigh.

"Lovely, isn’t she?” a woman’s voice broke Clarke’s reverie. She was startled to find a woman with kind brown eyes smiling beside her. She was wearing an elegant black dress and jewelry that probably cost more than Clarke could ever imagine spending in her lifetime. The woman seemed approachable through, so Clarke smiled.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “The artist was really able to bring out light in the painting through her.”

“Well she’s got her family,” the woman said. Clarke could have been imagining it, but it seemed spoken with sadness. “Wherever your family is, that’s where your light is.”

Clarke hummed. See, moments like these kept her up at night. What if she never finds her light? But then she spotted Octavia smiling with Lincoln out of the corner of her eye. She smiled at the thought of the brunette’s friendship. Even Raven's easy smiles and find teasing was a thought warmer than most she had in years. She remembered how Bellamy soothed her dreams away, how she felt safe in his arms. He was warm, steady and solid. Reliable. Trustworthy. Maybe, she thought, there was a way for her to find light where she wasn’t expecting it.

She looked back at the woman beside her, who was gazing at the painting. There was no mistaking it now, she looked utterly heartbroken.

“Maybe,” she said quietly. “Where we can find light, that’s where we can make a family.”

The woman gave a shaky laugh. “Wisely spoken, young lady.” The woman studied her for a moment, with amusement and open curiosity. “I’m Abby.”

“Pleased to meet you, Abby,” Clarke smiled. She was about to offer a hand when she saw Raven running towards them in her towering heels.

“Abby!” she called, alarm coloring her voice. The woman turned to her, concerned.

Shit, Clarke thought. Abby, like Abigail, former Queen of Arkadia.

“Raven,” she gasped. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to come with me,” Raven said, tugging at her arm. Abby glanced back at Clarke, but Clarke could only give her a small nod before she glanced at Raven, who was frowning at the scene before her.

“Abby,” she said quietly.

“Alright, let’s go,” she said, purposefully walking towards where Raven led her.

Clarke wandered around the room for a while before she started getting antsy. She glanced around for Octavia, but the other girl couldn't be found. She circled the room once and found herself picking up his voice in the ambient noise. She followed his baritone to a closed off section of the gallery. From her spot behind a column she could see Raven and Bellamy standing with the woman, with Abigail. Bellamy's voice was rising as he spoke to her.

"If you would just listen, you would see! Just talk to her, she's the one, I promise you. It's her. It's your daughter, your beautiful, brilliant stubborn daughter. Just please talk to her."

“What part of ‘no’ don't you understand, Mr Blake? I believed for years. I waited for ten years. But I am old and I am tired, I beg you to leave me be," Abby returned. Clarke felt guilty. What if she wasn't the princess? What right did she have to harass this lonely woman?

"Please just _look_ at her. Get off your high horse and give it a damn chance. Trust me," Bellamy begged.

Abby's weary voice turned cold. "Trust you? Mr Blake, I know who you are. I know how long you've been auditioning girls in the palace to play her part. Of course you want me to see her. She must be really special if it's taken you this long to find her."

Clarke's heart sank. She could feel the pressure building behind her eyes, but she couldn't move. She just watched the scene play out before her with her heart in her throat.

"You don't trust me?" Bellamy asked, a little angrily now. "Fine. That's fair. But you can you fucking deny this?" Bellamy took something out of his jacket and held it out.

"Bellamy," Raven's voice was a warning. She was quietly observing the whole time but she now stepped between the two. She positioned herself so that she was shielding Abby from the small box in Bellamy's hand. Abby, however gasped and reached around Raven to grab the box.

"Where did you get this?" Abby cried, looking wildly between the box and Bellamy.

"She's your family," Bellamy insisted quietly.

Abby looks at him steadily, sadly. She tucks the little box away I to her purse. "Maybe family is something we simply build wherever we find light, Mr Blake." She looks thoughtful. "Now, I give you the opportunity to take care of yours." She takes out a wad of paper, and scribbles something on one. "Take this, it's enough to take care of you and your sister for the rest of your lives. Let me live the rest of mine in peace." She hands the paper out to him.

Bellamy stared at the piece of paper for what seemed like an eternity. Clarke’s breathing stopped until Bellamy wordlessly took it.

Clarke could almost hear something break in her like glass shattering. She spun around, eyes pricking with tears. Run, run, run, a voice told her. _Hurry, and you'll get away from the pain,_ it promised. So she did. She ran right out of that gallery and let her feet take her to Raven's.

Octavia spotted her right before she exited. Clarke ignored the other girl’s concerned questions. She ran. That is what she did. The people from the orphanage always caught her, but Octavia didn’t have ten years of training. Clarke’s tears are fully streaming down her face by the time she reached Raven’s. She headed straight for the little room Raven had given her. Wells followed her in and whined. Clarke looked at him and scooped him up in her arms. She buried her nose in his fur and she feels a little better. She’s no longer devastated. Just angry. Wells seems appeased, too, so she sets him down. He curls down by her feet, and she’s a little proud. At least someone will remain loyal to her. She stared at the closet full of clothes, most of them not even out of their shopping bags yet. She huffed, wiping the tears away angrily.

She grabbed her ratty pack from the back. She stuffed her gigantic old coat, her few clothes from _before_ in it. She had no scarf now and she cursed Bellamy for it. She was taking the jewelry off herself when she heard an automobile pull up near the house. In her anger, she yanked off Octavia’s earring, almost ripping her own ear off in the process. “Shit, fuck,” she spat out, throwing the earring to the dresser. When she heard the knock at the door, she simply ground out “Go to hell, Bellamy Blake,” without turning around. What? She was too damn busy checking that she wasn’t bleeding and hating him.

“Not Mr. Blake,” a female voice replied evenly. “Fortunately.”

Clarke spun around to see Abigail Griffin standing in front of her, regally, coldly. Clarke spluttered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know-“

Abigail silenced her with a glare. “Tell me you didn’t know. Tell me that you were unaware of Mr. Blake’s intentions, that you didn’t use Raven to get to me, that that conversation at the gallery wasn’t part of a carefully constructed ruse.”

“The conversation at the gallery was not a ruse,” Clarke said stiffly. “Look, I’m sorry to have bothered you.” She began to resume her packing. “I’m going now, okay? You’ll get your money’s worth of peace. I just thought… maybe I could find my family in you and you in me. I just wanted to know, okay? No one meant to hurt you.” Abby daintily took a seat in the chaise on the other side of the room as Clarke continued to rummage around. She was almost completely packed, she didn’t have many things, after all, She just had to find her watch. Clarke saw from the corner of her eye that she was holding the box Bellamy had handed her. It was small and beautiful and familiar.

“You’re good, you know,” Abby said airily. “I can see why he brought you. Even a year ago, maybe I would have believed you.”

“There’s nothing to believe,” Clarke snapped. “I’m not claiming to be anything. I just wanted the chance to see you, now I have and well, fuck that. Fuck you and your stupid money, thinking you can just pay everyone off. Leave me alone, and take the stupid antiseptic smell with you.”

“I like hospitals,” Abby sniffed defensively from the chaise.

“Whatever,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “I used to like the smell of antiseptics. It was comforting. I used to like to smell it on my blanket when I had nightmares. Way to go ruining it for me.”

Abby looked thoughtful and a little bewildered. She frowned as she continued to rummage through the last drawer on the bureau to find her watch. She found it and held it up triumphantly. This whole nightmare was finally fucking over, she can go.

Then, she heard a small whimper from Abby. Startled, she looked up to see Abby completely pale and wide eyed. “What is that?”

“It’s my watch,” Clarke said defensively. Abby had risen and was slowly approaching Clarke.

“Where did you get that?” she whispered in a strangled voice. Clarke took a step back, warily watching the wild-eyed other woman.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I’ve always had it. I don’t remember anything from when I was very small. I just know I had it with me when I came to the orphanage. It’s how I knew to come here.”

Abby closed her eyes and rocked on her heels. Suddenly, Clarke’s alarms were going off. What if Abby fainted?

She reached out a hand to Abby’s arm. “Hey,” she said quietly. “What’s wrong?”

Abby opens her eyes and looked at her for a long moment. “Come,” she said motioning to the chaise. Clarke sat down with Abby handed her the box. Clarke took the small golden box in her hand, turning it over. It was a familiar weight. Unthinkingly, she took off her watch, and turned it over. At the back, where it was inscribed that there was a _together in Polis_ , she lifted, pulling the back covering away from the watch. She attached it to the bottom of the box and turned. Slowly, the lid of the box lifted and a little figurine began twirling. A familiar melody started playing and Clarke started humming, until the end where she and Abby both breathed, “May we meet again.”

Clarke looked up to Abby, confused and inexplicably excited.

“On the night of the siege,” Abby began, eyes welling as she held Clarke’s gaze. “My daughter dropped this music box. It was our little secret. Our lullaby. The key to it, though, my husband’s watch, never left her wrist. She always had it. You’ve always had it.”

Abby began to cry in earnest, mumbling apologies and it’s you, over and over again. Clarke was frozen on her spot for a moment before she processed everything. Then very suddenly, she grasped Abby shoulders and asked “Mom?”

“Clarke,” Abby gasped, breaking out of her own hysterics.

Raven found them sobbing and laughing in each other’s arms not long after. The Griffins were together in Polis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy socks, it's been forever. I'm sorry. Come yell at me in the comments?


End file.
